


Paradise Found

by Spudato



Series: A Friendly Guide to Corvidae [1]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Bad Karma, F/F, Femslash, Implied Sexual Content, Non-binary character, Paradise Falls, all of the bad karma, bad!karma people falling in love and Having A Good Time, everything you'd expect in a story where a slaver is the protag happens, hilariously self indulgent fic abound, slavers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: Krowe is, by all means, living the idyllic slaver life: she has a solid team watching out for her, the hard-won respect of her boss and fellow asshole colleagues, and she's making some serious bank. The only thing missing is a girl to call her own, but thankfully Erin - merchant, deadeye and hustler - intends to fill that place nicely. The year is 2280, and Paradise Falls just got a whole lot more interesting.





	

It wasn’t common for Eulogy Jones to assign special jobs to people, but when he did everyone in Paradise Falls knew that somehow, somewhere, shit had hit the fan.

Usually, the man was content enough to let the slavers do as they pleased. So long as they bought in slaves consistently and didn’t burn the complex to the ground then Eulogy tended to keep his distance, watching the settlement thrive from his balcony. Caps would pour in, drinks would flow, and it would be that peaceful, lazy state of equilibrium when Eulogy would interact with his people the least. No reason to shake the hive when all was proceeding well.

That was how Krowe knew something was really ruining Eulogy’s day, because it was one thing to be called into his home, and another when both of your companions in crime get called in with you.

Which brought Krowe, Rayven and Jakdaw into the reception of Eulogy’s home. Sure, it may not have been used as one for two hundred years, but it felt like one right now, the air quiet and heavy with anticipation. The trio of corvid slavers all stood near the wide double doors, straight-backed and silent, as Eulogy busied himself behind the counter to pour himself a very reasonable measure of scotch. He hadn’t said a word when they’d filed in, but that tended to be his style. He liked people to salivate for his information, encouraging the blossoming of eagerness and anxiety alike, but the slavers weren’t as affected as he might've hoped. Krowe side-eyed Rayven, his face impassive as ever, and a glance down towards the younger Jakdaw saw them looking nearly bored to tears. As for Krowe - well, she was proud to say it took a lot more than a foreboding atmosphere to make her bend.

Maybe Eulogy recognised that at last, because after one pull of his drink he placed the glass down with a tap, sighing deeply. A second passed. Two. And then;

“... Have you ever heard the story of a man named ‘Illinois David’?”

Krowe looked to Rayven again, who shrugged loosely, and she shook her head. Jakdaw, however, took their notepad and pencil from their back pocket, scrawling something down quickly. Eulogy waited patiently until the paper was torn off and handed to Krowe, and she read off the words with no hesitation.

“‘I have. An escapee slave, some fifteen years ago.’”

Eulogy only nodded once, staring at his glass as if trying to move it with his mind. When that failed, he looked up at Krowe, dark eyes glinting with malice.

“They’re right. Illinois was one of our finer catches - strong, capable, could take one hell of a beating. He was going to bring in more money than any slave we’d ever seen. And then? One night, he made a run for it. Somehow deactivated his collar and made for the horizon. Thought I’d never see him again,” Then, a smile slowly grew on Eulogy’s face, showing more and more teeth until it was practically a snarl. “Until now.”

Rayven cleared his throat quietly, the tones of his voice low and rumbling. “You want us to catch him again, sir?”

At this, the head slaver stood tall, brushing at his scarlet coat before he nodded once, reaching to pluck the glass off the counter. “Exactly that. Since you three formed your… what have they been calling you again?”

Krowe grimaced. “The… Birdsquad, sir.”

A laugh then, harsh and short. “Birdsquad! Well, name aside, since you three came together the livestock quality has never been higher. I’ve seen your work.” The look he levelled at them all seemed intimidating, if the accompanying smile hadn’t made it one of pride. “I know I can trust you with his retrieval.”

“Yes sir,” Krowe’s voice was smooth, unwavering. He didn’t need to add that if his trust had been misplaced, there’d be some dire retribution in the form of their bodies making grand new ornaments for the gate. But Krowe was sure it wouldn’t come to that. “Where was he seen last?”

“Some little shithole called Davison, sat on an old airfield some five days south of here. Whilst that information might be a little out of date, he can’t have moved far. People will have seen him, and you know who you can ask, don’t you?”

Paradise Falls had eyes all along the east coast - Krowe had once heard they even had people as north as Boston - so she didn’t even have a shadow of a doubt that someone out there knew exactly where Illinois had been and gone. “Of course. When do you want us to leave?”

The drink was downed effortlessly then, the smack of Eulogy’s lips loud and satisfied as he placed the glass down. “Hm. Tomorrow, I’d say. I’ll have to draft up our contract - after all, legitimate businessmen like myself always enjoy a spot of paperwork - but after that you’re free to hunt down Illinois. My one rule is that you must bring him back _alive_ , though,” For a moment his hands clenched into fists, and even under the jacket Krowe could see a flex of muscle. “No excuses.”

Krowe and Rayven nodded dutifully, but Jakdaw was scrawling something down again, words big and black so that when they turned the paper, Krowe didn’t need to read it off.

‘PAYMENT?’

Perhaps it could have been seen as insolence, but Eulogy just laughed again, tension dissipating as he leaned on the counter.

“Right to the good stuff, huh? I can respect that,” There was a moment of quiet as he mulled it over, and then he looked up with a wolfish grin. “I’m thinking one and a half thousand, each. But you get me Illinois back in two weeks and I’ll bump that up to two-thousand. Reasonable?”

Jakdaw’s eyes grew wide, and they nodded frantically, closing the notepad and tucking it away without another word. Even Krowe was near shocked to silence, thankful when Rayven spoke for her. “Beyond reasonable, sir. He’ll be back for your disposal as soon as physically possible.”

“That’s what I like to hear. So, the contract will be ready for signing tomorrow with all our terms, and then you can head out. Any other questions?”

There were none.

“You’re dismissed, then.”

“Thank you again, sir,” Krowe managed to get out before Rayven turned and opened the doors wide for them. Eulogy gave a playful salute as the trio headed out back into the afternoon sun, and the doors closed behind with a thunk.

Squinting in the light, it took Krowe’s eyes a second to adjust, Jakdaw rubbing at their own as if they’d just woken up, but it was no surprise when Rayven put his hands on both of their shoulders, Krowe glancing to him curiously.

“Let’s talk at the bar. We need to do some math,” Was all the tall man had to offer before letting go and walking ahead. Krowe looked to Jakdaw, who just shrugged, and then the pair followed the dusty path after Rayven’s figure.

Paradise Falls was, as per usual, noisy as all Hell. Most settlements were the quiet sort, as if being too loud would attract every monster in a ten-mile radius, but Paradise Falls was already _full_ of monsters, so what was the risk? The result, however, meant that _talking_ was really _shouting_ , and _shouting_ was more like almost _screaming_ , trying to be heard over a town which had the volume turned entirely too high. You’d never hear Krowe complain about it, though. A childhood spent in near-silence made Paradise Falls a, well, paradise for making up the lost noise.

The noisiest place was the bar, though. When Krowe had first arrived as a fresh faced sixteen-year-old, the bar had been one counter and a handful of shitty chairs and tables that tended to go missing more often than not, a slave posted as bartender who’d never last the week. Now, though, a growth in slaver population meant the bar had been extended into a blocky U shape, all the loose seats exchanged for a colourful and mixed collection of booths torn out of a few abandoned diners some folk had found. The placed served piping hot food as well - something that had been sorely missing over the years - and now featured a pair of dedicated bartenders by the names of Bailey and Chardonnay, ex-slave sisters who made the bar thrive like it was its own little town. _Everyone_ was sweet on the straw-haired Bailey, who poured wicked cocktails that could floor a brahmin, but Krowe had to admit on a lingering crush on the quiet, witty Chardonnay, who could turn just about anything you gave her into a meal.

It was Bailey the group approached first, though, weaving around battered booths to reach her domain on the left side of the bar. Slavers oohed as she mixed a rainbow coloured drink, various opened Nuka Cola bottles lined up on the bar, and with a final flourish she produced a pair of crystal clear ice-cubes, dropping them in and passing the drink to an eager hand before dipping into a low bow. There was even a spot of applause, and Bailey bowed again before turning to face Rayven, smile radiant.

“Hello! What can I get you today, Rayven?”

“Beer,” Was his short reply, and then he raised a brow towards Krowe and Jakdaw questioningly. Krowe stepped closer to the bar, mirroring Bailey’s smile, watching Jakdaw produce their notepad again.

“I’ll have a Nuka and vodka. Jak?”

‘black velvet’

“Excellent choices. You sure you only want a beer, Ray? I could whip you up something nice.” Rayven just shook his head, running a hand over fluffy hair.

“Nah, but thanks. What’s Chardonnay got on the grill?”

Bailey disappeared under the counter for a moment before returning with vodka and a bottle of stout, humming lightly. “Mirelurk, last I heard. It’s been real popular though, so you’d better get it whilst you can.”

Rayven didn’t move though, and instead the trio watched Bailey make the drinks, sliding Rayven his beer without much gusto before pouring out the two cocktails. Krowe’s was done first given the Nuka had already been out and waiting, but Jakdaw’s was finished last, stout generously poured and garnished with a wink as Bailey passed it over. Krowe wasn’t blind to the light flush over Jakdaw’s cheeks - the kid could be the most stone-faced person you’d ever meet, but seeing it chipped was always something of a fascination.

Rayven paid for the drinks, waving his hand at Krowe when she tried to pay, and then he took them over to a vacant booth, table wobbling as drinks were balanced on top. Just off to the right came the sizzle of the grill, and Krowe tried to pretend her mouth wasn’t watering at the smell as Rayven kept his head low, speaking softly.

“We need to talk about this job. Y’know, figure out some logistics.”

A flip of a notebook and Jakdaw was scratching away. Krowe had learned not to speak when Jakdaw wrote, just on the off-chance they shared a question. It was the least they could do for them as a team, and it also wasn’t much fun beating a mute kid to the (verbal) punch anyway. That just made Krowe feel like a special type of asshole.

Once Jakdaw was done, they turned the pad around, Krowe leaning across the read the words.

‘do any of us actually know the way to davidson? i’ve never even heard of it before.’

“Yeah, I do,” Rayven toyed with his bottle, picking at a battered label and peeling it off. “A long time ago, but I know five days will be pretty hopeful. Time’ll be tight and the way ain’t easy. The Deathclaws down there are the hungry sort.”

Sitting back, Krowe drank a little more, the tang of vodka making its way through the sweet cola. Rayven was right - they wouldn’t have as much time for pit stops as they usually did, and there’d probably be a lot more camping under the stars than Krowe personally preferred. Still, for one and a half thousand - or _two damn thousand_ if they were quick about it - it would be worth the effort.

It’d be _very_ worth it.

 

* * *

 

When the team hiked into Davidson Airfield a week later they’d been prepared to mount a wild molerat chase after their target, but by some miracle Illinois hadn’t left the settlement. Krowe didn’t know if the choice was down to either arrogance or plain stupidity, but she was eternally thankful when their informant - a young slaver by the name of Dylan - informed them that Illinois was still roaming around.

“He’s gotta know he’s too close to Paradise for comfort, but he’s stickin’ around anyway. I’m thinkin’ he’s thinkin’ that the town’ll protect him, and I gotta say he probably ain’t too far off the mark.” As Dylan spoke, the group were wandering through Davidson’s busy market district, the colossal flat space once used to launch the decrepit airplanes lay wasting away on the far end of the strip. Now, it was a hub of noise and trading and haggling, shiny guns with big price tags laying on tables and freshly butchered meat hanging off hooks. “He’s still paranoid though, make no mistake about it. He ain’t stupid enough not to watch his back.”

Rayven ducked beneath a low-hanging sign, casting a look about the narrow aisles. “This really a safe place to talk, Dyl?”

“Sure is. It’s loud as shit, ain’t nobody listenin’ in, and if they is we can pay ‘em off,” Dylan’s voice was light, but then it dropped to a gravelly mutter. “These people let their morals shut right the fuck up for the right price, y’know.”

Krowe just chuckled as Jakdaw quickly scrawled something out, the walking making their letters spike into jagged angles.

‘sounds like my kind of people’

They weren’t wrong. Any decent slaver knew the power of bribery, and when what you considered pocket change floored most wastelanders into keeping quiet for a good long time, it was never easier. If Dylan’s words were true, Illinois was nearly halfway in the bag already.

Still, just as the group turned the corner into a new row of shops, Dylan hissed beneath her breath and immediately began to scan the wares of an armour store to her left, the other slavers following suit and trying to look disinterested.

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” Dylan huffed, glancing over her shoulder down towards the other end of the market. “Which y’all want first?”

“Is it Illinois?” Rayven asked, voice low enough to rumble, and Krowe kept an ear out as she distracted the store owner, inquiring with a smile about a nice set of leather armour.

“Yep. Right by the med store. Black duster, baseball cap.”

Krowe risked a glance as the storekeeper dropped beneath the counter for a helmet, and indeed a tall man was discussing something with a medic, long leather duster torn up at the bottom and a worn blue cap covering loose dark hair. Rayven hummed to Krowe’s left, confirming he’d spotted him too, rolling his shoulders to summon a series of pops just as the storeowner reappeared again.

“Jakdaw.”

Rayven’s voice could have easily been missed, but Krowe felt a flutter of air behind her and then the little slaver was gone, melting into the crowd as if they’d been a ghost the whole time. This was when Jakdaw was the most useful - Krowe and Rayven were too obvious, had too much presence when tailing, but Jakdaw could appear and reappear like smoke, following anyone and anything to the ends of the earth with minimal effort. People laughed when the older slavers took them along, wondering why a stick-like kid who barely scraped past the five-foot mark had been given both freedom and the infamous title of slaver, but strength wasn’t everything. Jakdaw had lots of secrets and surprises, so it was honestly no wonder they had an uncanny ability to find out everyone else's.

Both Rayven and Dylan stepped away from the stall, and Krowe politely declined the armour to follow, turning around as the storeowner’s face fell. Sticking too close to Jakdaw as they did their work wouldn’t help anyone, so instead they roamed towards the far end of the market, Dylan whistling once they were in a quiet area.

“Sure wish I could do that! When’d you pick ‘im up?”

Rayven shrugged loosely. “Got them freed about… three years ago, now? Best decision of anybody’s life, really.”

It really had been, because after that it only took two hours before a piece of paper was pushed into Krowe’s empty hand whilst she and Rayven looked over the stock of another weapons store. She didn’t bother turning around - Jakdaw would already be gone - so instead she took a few steps away as if losing interest before uncrumpling the paper, torn from a familiar notepad. The words were written backwards and without vowels, just so any spies who were marginally more literate than the average wastelander wouldn’t be able to make out the words over her shoulder just in a glance.

‘NN RB :SNLL

.NVYR .NM LKS’

So Illinois would be at the bar at nine... and was apparently into guys? How Jakdaw had found that out Krowe would never know, but they’d proven time and time again people slipped up all sorts of interesting information when you least expected it. They’d had the right idea though - Rayven was the perfect guy for this kind of job. She was sure they had a tight shirt to show off his muscles somewhere amongst their belongings.

Once the man in question strolled over with his question clear on his face, Krowe showed him the note and he laughed a little, pocketing it with a smile.

“It’s been a while, but sure. Let’s hope he’s into this,” Rayven flexed, the smooth rounded muscle more like bowling balls shoved up his short sleeves, and Krowe just raised a brow.

“What kind of self-respecting guy wouldn’t be?”

The answer was, as it turned out, ‘not many’, because once Rayven headed into the bar that evening, nearly every head turned to admire the curve of pecs and ridges of abs that showed through a _very_ form-fitting grey shirt. Krowe and Dylan had already been sat inside, looking out for any early appearance of Illinois, but even they were momentarily distracted by Rayven’s self-assured swagger.

“Jeeeesus,” Dylan murmured, taking a quick sip of her drink as a pink flush rose up her neck. “He up for grabs, or…?”

Even Krowe, self-identified lady-killer that she was, had to admit the sight of Rayven’s ass was leaving her mouth dry, and she coughed quietly as she tried to focus back on the patrons around the room. “Unless you’re a guy, ‘fraid not.”

Dylan’s groan of disappointment was covered up by the bar door opening again, and the pair looked to see none other than Illinois himself walk in, right on time. Immediately Dylan shut up and looked down to her beer, and Krowe was quick to do the same, turning in her seat as if continuing a conversation.

“So yeah, I heard up north they have these really _weird_ Deathclaws. Like, variant ones? It’s strange-”

Watching over Dylan’s shoulder towards the bar whilst holding a conversation wasn’t easy, but Krowe was able to see enough to know what was - mostly - going on. Firstly, Illinois had taken a place at the bar, making sure he was side-on to the door before settling down, casting glances towards the door every few minutes. Rayven, who was directly opposite, was engaging in light conversation with an increasingly distracted young man. Perfect.

As the evening entered full swing, the bar began to fill up. The addition of a second floor meant the place didn’t reach an uncomfortable capacity, but there were still enough people that Krowe couldn’t make out a single word from Rayven’s direction, so she soon slumped down in her booth and resigned herself to sourly drinking.

“Can’t hear shit, huh?” Dylan’s grin was bright, and she looked over to the bar again. “Still, looks like your buddy can handle himself.”

It turned out, after Krowe leant forwards, that Rayven was flexing for the man beside him, and Illinois was blatantly staring from the other side. Snorting, Krowe leaned back again. “‘Course. This isn’t his first big gay rodeo.”

Looking back to Krowe, Dylan leaned in a little closer, humour replaced by curiosity in bright grey eyes. “So like… if you hadta catch some _girl_ who’s into _guys_ … would ya use Ray again?”

Nodding, Krowe shut her eyes, letting the ebb of noise fill her ears. “Yeah, he’ll act out the part if it gets us cargo. Same for me, really,” Humming under her breath, Krowe opened her eyes again. “Though guys are significantly easier to seduce, in my - personal - opinion.”

Dylan laughed, loud and long, but it didn’t matter when the room was loud enough as it was, her voice melting away. “The girls have taste, huh?”

The look the slaver gave her just made her laugh even harder.

After that, it would take over two hours before Krowe bothered to inspect the situation at the bar again. Dylan was right in that Rayven could handle this sort of business alone, and when she did eventually peek over she was pleased to see Rayven was now settled right by Illinois, several empty bottles scattered around them and one of Ray’s muscled arms over Illinois’ shoulders. The man looked little awkward, but from the red on his face that even Krowe could see, he didn’t mind at all. Then when one more hour had passed-

“Krowe, they’re gettin’ up.”

Blinking and sitting up from her slouch, Krowe looked to see Rayven with his hand _very_ obviously beneath the counter, whispering something as he began to stand up. Illinois paused, nodded, and then staggered upright, and Krowe suppressed a snigger at the sight of a curve in the front of his trousers that certainly hadn’t been there before. Rayven paid the tab, slung a shoulder around Illinois’ shoulder before guiding him towards the door, but as the pair passed Krowe’s table Rayven shot them both a wink before exiting the bar, door shutting with a creak behind.

Sharing a look, Krowe and Dylan downed the rest of their drinks before following his lead, stepping through the doorway into the cool night air. Given the ramshackle state of the makeshift bar, wooden walls featuring more gaps than none, the noise didn’t really die down once the door was shut again. Still, it meant any struggle would be appropriately muffled, any shouts confused for an overeager drunk, so it was a blessing in its own way.

It turned out Rayven hadn’t gone far. Turning the corner to walk down the side of the remains of the airport saw Rayven and Jakdaw in clear view, talking (and writing) quietly, but Illinois was nowhere to be seen. Frowning and then jogging to reach them, Krowe was halfway to asking where the cargo had gone when she saw booted feet sticking out from a dark alcove, Illinois sat within, out cold and with a collar already strapped around his neck.

“ _Shit,_ ” Dylan whispered when she saw him too, crouching low to get a better look. “Fast fuckin’ work there.”

Rayven just shrugged, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. “Drunkenness and arousal goes hand and hand with these types. Didn’t see it coming at all.”

Krowe made to reply before Jakdaw pushed a piece of paper at her, and she paused to read the scrawled words, low light making her squint.

‘i have a distraction thatll set off very soon. we should go.’

Krowe looked to Jakdaw and then Rayven, and the taller man just shrugged again. “They’re the boss.”

Not fifteen minutes later the squad were making their way from Davidson with Illinois over Rayven’s shoulder, Dylan handsomely paid for her work and left behind in the town to make her own way. Grunting, Rayven made a face when Illinois began to wake up, squirming in his grip as the trio headed past Davison’s border, but Rayven just ignored him, still jogging onwards when a huge flare of light exploded from the far side of Davison. Krowe blinked at the column of white light before glancing at Jakdaw, who looked unusually smug.

“What’d you do back there, buddy?”

Jakdaw just handed over their notepad, never breaking pace, with their answer already written out.

‘they’ll be down a few generators for a while’

 

* * *

 

 

It was four days later, north of Tenpenny Tower and nearly halfway to Arefu, when Krowe’s pistol gave out entirely, almost coming apart in her hand not half an hour after a short battle with a pack of molerats. It wasn’t her fault - she’d taken it from a Raider a day out from Davison when she’d ran out of ammo for her .44, and the thing had been held together by glue, tape and willpower. However, being weaponless in the midst of the wasteland had her, frankly, shitting herself, and Rayven suggested stopping off by Arefu to see if a trader had stopped there with some .44 ammo.

“Even if there isn’t, I’m sure someone will trade you a weapon, the amount of caps you have.”

“So I can get a shitty gun to replace a shitty gun? With a bit of luck it’ll take my hand off next time,” Krowe grumbled, and there was a scoff, Illinois trailing along behind. A chain was now connected to the collar, Rayven tugging him along harshly, but even though they’d left his hands bound they’d had to ungag him to make him drink and eat… which meant they now walked with his snarling commentary after every step.

“And you’d fucking deserve it too.”

Rayven’s pull on the chain was hard enough to nearly bring Illinois to the ground, the slaver growling, teeth bared. “You _shut the fuck up_ before _you_ end up losing a hand!”

Illinois didn’t say anything to that, instead getting his balance back before continuing the way.

As the group neared Arefu the sun above began to reach its peak, the midday heat climbing until the air was thick and dry and made skin prickle with sweat. Krowe’s entire body felt grimy, the dust she wiped off turning into a gritty brownish sludge on the palm of her hand, so seeing the tall arch of the overpass in the distance was enough of a blessing that Krowe began to walk faster, head held high as Illinois stumbled on behind.

Crossing the river that ran beneath Arefu was a regular part of the trek to the settlement, but whereas the team usually tended to head westwards to cross where the water wasn’t as high, preferring the filth left by dense, irradiated mud, Krowe just marched through the water. The deepest part only reached her hips anyway and it was refreshing to have cool water on her legs even if Jakdaw’s Geiger counter, strapped to their bag, was ticking away angrily. Still, the four continued across, splashing loudly but out of sight of Arefu still.

Once they were back on dry land, wringing out clothing and cringing at wet shoes, Rayven paused for just a second before eyeing up Illinois warily. The man barely muttered out a “What?” before Rayven rammed his elbow into the side of his head, the slave dropping to the ground like a stone. Krowe watched with a raised brow, Jakdaw’s face placid as ever, and they watched Rayven haul Illinois back onto his shoulder.

“He was looking a little shifty, and I think he was gonna try and stir up some noise. Did you hear how much splashing he was doing?”

Krowe’s other brow lifted to mirror the other one, and she grinned wolfishly. “Well, so long as he’s still breathing a little headache can’t do much. You gonna loop away from town?”

“Will do. Once we’re out of sight you can head on in - I doubt they’ve seen us together.” With a little jump Rayven moved Illinois further up his shoulder, and then motioned for Jakdaw with a tilt of his head. “C’mon.”

As the pair - and Illinois - walked off eastwards along the riverbank, Krowe watched them go with tension beginning to tickle between her shoulder blades. Even without the incriminating evidence of her partners and cargo in tow, some people had an uncanny ability to sniff out a slaver. She just had that sort of gait and personality, she supposed, but it made walking to settlements harder than it needed to be, really.

Regardless, once she couldn’t see the figures on the horizon anymore Krowe turned on her heel and headed along the downwards slope of the overpass. The water stains might be cause for suspicion if they had heard the splashing, but so long as nobody had spotted the others and their similarly soaked attire, chances were they wouldn’t act against her. With that in mind, she hiked up to the roadside, preparing her best smile and smoothest voice for whoever was at the front of town.

Krowe didn’t get that far, because the moment she reached the roadside she was met with the two-faced monstrosity that was a merchant’s brahmin, complete with loaded pack and leathery stink.

“Oh! Didn’t see you there!”

For half a second Krowe misinterpreted the low lilt of somebody’s voice to be the brahmin until that same somebody rounded the huge beast, tucking their hands into the straps of the harness and pulling the animal back. “Woah, boy, back off now. Sorry about that - was shovin’ his fat ass forwards and didn’t even realise-”

When the bright glare of sun was blocked by their body, Krowe blinked… and then blinked again, unsure if the rads were making her hallucinate. Then again, she’d heard somewhere that hallucinations always pulled from what you’d already seen, and Krowe could bet a thousand caps safely on the fact she’d never seen this face before. She would never have forgotten.

High cheekbones, slender jaw and thick, dark tapering bows were what she took in first, before the perfect curve of a smile and the glittering of emerald eyes took her attention back, forcing Krowe to crane her head to compensate for the height difference. She wasn’t a short woman by any means of the imagination, but this merchant was a head or so bigger, just as lithe but lanky from it. Tanned arms rose up, made brown from sunlight and decorated in a handful of dark brown spots, and a quick adjustment of her hat brought a cheeky smile forth.

Krowe’s face was flushing red, but it had nothing to do with the heat.

“You alright, miss? Gotta warn you - the first minute of starin’ is free, but after that I hafta start charging.”

Regathering her composure wasn’t easy - since when did merchants look this good? - but eventually Krowe cleared her throat lightly, taking a side-step away from the brahmin that sniffed curiously at her trousers. “Sorry, I- actually, you were just what I was looking for.”

The merchant paused, and then smiled again, her grin nearly managing to rival the sun. “Well, I’m glad to hear it! What can I do you for?”

 _You can do me for free, if you like_. “Uh, I’m looking for .44 ammo, and maybe a spare gun. Turns out only carrying a single weapon can bite you in the ass sometimes.”

The laugh the merchant made was light, airy. “I know that feeling. That’s why my ten mil’s been pretty reliable over all these years, y’know?” Her wink caused Krowe’s throat to stick suddenly. “But I got plenty of .44, since it’s never exactly sellin’ like hot cakes, yeah? Lemme just-”

How the trader knew where the ammo was buried under what looked like three hundred pounds of crap, Krowe didn’t know, but with a flip of a side pocket a stack of bright blue boxes were pulled out, most taped back together. Another pair were pulled out a second later to bring the total to five boxes of rattling bullets, which the trader slid into the wide pocket of her leather duster before shutting the flap.

“Alright, I got about one hundred .44’s, give or take a few. It’s usually about sixty caps per box but…” The merchant took a small step forward, close enough to touch. “I _might_ be feelin’ generous today.”

There was a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, skin perfectly taut and glistening with mild perspiration. “And how much of a discount would your generosity give me?”

A pink tongue darted out to lick dry lips, and Krowe watched the motion with a growing fascination. “If we get out of sight of the musty asshole up top, maybe you can find out.”

The slaver glanced off to the left, and true to Erin’s word an old man stood behind a wall of sandbags, watching them closely, and she nodded quickly. Best to conduct such business where they couldn’t be seen, such as under the overpass rather than on it. So, without another word Krowe stepped back, heading down towards the bank, and the trader followed closely with her boots rhymically thudding along, brahmin a few steps behind.

Under the shade of the overpass the only thing to contend with was the motionless, dusty air, but that didn’t really matter when the trader’s hands fell to Krowe’s hips, turning her swiftly around until their chests pressed together. It was nice to see that the brahmin was keeping a distance away - perhaps this wasn’t the first time - but before the merchant could dip her head low enough for a kiss, Krowe pressed a palm to her sternum to ward her off for just a moment.

“First things first; got a name?”

The trader hummed, leaning in again until green captured chocolate brown. “Erin Kalowski, at your service. And him over there, that’s Meatball. How about you?”

Krowe could feel Erin’s breath across her face, close enough to kiss. “Krowe. With a K and an E.”

The chuckle in reply was smooth and the first kiss was short, but having her body pressed against Erin’s felt too good for words. Rough hands fell to squeeze Krowe’s ass before roaming back up to hold her close, and Erin’s tongue swiped over Krowe’s lower lip, teasing her before moving away to press open-mouthed kisses to her cheek and suck at the skin beneath the sharp angle of her jaw. Groaning, Krowe tugged down the neckline of a creamish grey - once white - t-shirt, and when she latched onto Erin’s collarbone, grazing her teeth along too-perfect skin, Erin breathed out a laugh.

“Damn, if you wanna continue like this we might need to find a bed somewhere,” Then, Erin leaned close to Krowe’s ear, speaking too low to even be called a whisper. “Shoulda figured you slavers were all or nothing, though.”

Krowe froze, pulling away from Erin’s collarbone but still staying in the loose embrace of her arms. Erin’s face hadn’t changed, save for her blown pupils and far more devilish smirk, but it took a second for the slaver to figure out a reply. “How did you know?”

Erin’s shrug was loose, hands moving lower to get a firm grip around Krowe’s waist. “Evan King might be deaf as a lamp post, but you’d have to be pretty talented to make that much splashin’ down there on your own. Then, I see two slavers and a new friend sopping wet ‘n’ heading west, and then you turn up soaked not ten minutes later. It’s pretty easy to connect the dots, yeah?

Krowe bit her tongue, dropping her hands from Erin’s back as if they were stung. “So? What’s it to you?”

“Don’t worry,” Erin winked, leaning down again until the peak of her cap was pushed up, their foreheads touching. “I don’t have any sorta ‘no serve’ policy against slavers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then why tell me you knew?” That was the part that wasn’t making any sense - was Erin hoping to use the information to bargain?

A huff of warm breath made Krowe blink, Erin leaning back to tuck a single tendril of dark hair behind Krowe’s ear. “Because, if you’re up for it, I would actually _like_ to find a bed and continue this conversation later,” Her laugh was light, free of any underlying malice. “And since you’re a slaver, and I’m assumin’ you work outta Paradise, I can find you there, right?”

Krowe’s cheeks warmed, unused to being the one so shamelessly flirted with. The offer was appealing, and Erin _would_ make for pleasant company, but… “You sure you want to roll in the hay with a slaver? I hear we have a little more bite than the usual girls about town.”

Now it was Erin’s turn to look a little flushed, and Krowe couldn’t help but find the pink that ran under tanned skin extremely attractive. “Well, I won’t lie when I say I’m into people who know their way around a collar and leash, you get me?”

Maybe Erin was lying, trying to worm into Krowe’s heart if only to destroy it more effectively, yet the kiss they shared was soft and gentle, too genuine to be a product of ill intent. Besides, Krowe wasn’t the type to look a gift brahmin in the mouth - if Erin turned out to be one of the finest fakers in the wasteland, she’d regret it as soon as she stepped into Paradise’s boundaries. So, when Krowe pulled back, it was with a smouldering lust in her eyes and a grin that could set ice ablaze.

“Well, alright then. You’re on.”

Erin’s emerald eyes lit up, and her grin was predatory. “Sounds like a date. You still want those bullets for a safe trip over? Only twenty caps a box.”

When Krowe’s fingers grabbed the lapels of her jacket, pulling Erin back in so their lips were hardly a centimetre apart, Krowe couldn’t help but giggle, something bubbling and childish rising up in the face of what felt like a victory.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

With a newly loaded gun at her hip and a spare 10 millimetre given as a parting gift, the short walk back to Paradise Falls was only improved by the soft burn of Erin’s handprints where they’d pressed against Krowe’s skin not long ago. It almost felt like walking on air when she recalled her face, mischievous eyes and slow grin enough to make Krowe’s body start tingling all over again, and striding into her home only reminded her of their arrangement.

_‘Tell you what. I’ll cut my circuit short and head back towards Paradise once I’m restocked, yeah? One week. The only reason I wouldn’t show is because I’d be dead, but that won’t happen ‘cause I don't believe in gettin’ shot.’_

Krowe could already tell there was a fine line between confidence and cockiness for Erin, but she toed it so superbly that she believed every word. It was no wonder she’d taken up the rough-and-tumble life of a merchant - such a silver tongue had to be illegal in at least seven different settlements. The slaver had to admit, though, that she was curious to see if it would tarnish when Erin was on her back. She was good at making people crumble beneath her, strength turned into submission, but it would be the first time Krowe would ever be trying to wrangle someone near her own level of persuasion.

An experiment best left unimagined, for now. Besides, Krowe had business to wrap up.

The sun was dipping low in the sky by the time Krowe was passing beneath the gate into Paradise proper, the night guard switching over and the bulk of Paradise emptying as people headed to the bar for dinner. Rayven and Jakdaw would be there too, probably opting for a big meal for a job well done assuming everything had gone okay in her absence, and indeed as she headed right from the gateway, moving towards the extended bar area where the noise was beginning to reach deafening levels, she could easily hear Rayven’s voice picking up to shout playfully towards other slavers.

“What I don’t get is what the fuck did you do with the horns? Did you eat those too? Or have you just carved ‘em into a really nice pair of matching dildos and don’t wanna show ‘em off as proof?”

The laughter that rose up was enough to make Krowe wince as she rounded the corner into the area, every table taken up by too many people and drinks splashed around onto sticky vinyl surfaces and onto dusty floors alike. Rayven sat on the far end of the bar, flanked by Bailey and Chardonnay, and Jakdaw was sat silently by his side but grinning wide as a young slaver closer to Krowe spluttered at the accusation.

“No! I just- I’ve not- I lost- oh, go fuck yourself!”

As he sat down in defeat another roar of laughter rose up, and Krowe couldn’t help but smile at his look of humiliation before moving around the edge of the bar, dodging wandering elbows and jutting feet until she was by Jakdaw’s side.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?”

Rayven glanced up at her, grin still wide on his face, and then he murmured towards Bailey who simply nodded and moved away, Chardonnay quick to follow suit. When a hand was lazily waved towards the opposite booth - somehow empty despite the crowd - Krowe was quick to slide in, legs just long enough to let her prop her feet up in the gap between Jakdaw and Rayven’s thighs. “So?”

Rayven took a swig of beer, seemingly swirling it around his mouth before he spoke. “Eulogy was pleased to all Hell and back. He’s got your share still, since he wanted to talk to each of us face to face, so you might wanna head up there tonight just to grab it before he heads to bed for the night,” Rayven leaned back, rolling his shoulders free of tension. “It’s legit, though. Two thousand caps, no argument about it.”

Krowe nodded slowly as Jakdaw pulled out their notepad, and as they both waited for their thoughts she glanced back towards the slaver Rayven had been yelling at. “So what about him?”

“Him? Oh, he was telling Char some bullshit story about killing a Deathclaw and then eating it to survive, which is why ‘there’s no evidence’. Everyone’s killed a Deathclaw in their dreams these days.”

Just as Krowe hummed in agreement there was a slide of paper against vinyl, and the notepad bumped against her elbow with words written dark and clear.

‘so what did you do in arefu? took you longer than we thought’

Like she’d been pinched Krowe sat up straight, shuffling forwards until her ribs pressed against the edge of the table as her colleagues did the same, ducking their heads a little lower to try and keep the words as private as possible.

“I met this girl there,” Rayven made a dramatic sigh, but a quick flick at his forehead made him focus up again. “Like seriously. She’s a merchant, one I’ve never seen before, but she was smoking fucking hot. Like, I looked at her and half my brain turned into fucking jelly sort of hot, y’know? And she’s coming here. Next week.”

Rayven let out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “Damn. How’d you convince her to do that?”

Krowe grinned, pink tongue stuck between her teeth. “She did half of the convincing for me, honestly. She figured out I was a slaver from the get-go, then turned around and said - hold on, I gotta fucking quote her here - ‘I’m into people who know their way around a collar and leash’. Like… Holy shit?”

Rayven just guffawed, and Jakdaw’s sniggers seemed to half stem out of pure shock. The ridiculousness of it was only just starting to hit Krowe as well, as she couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her face again. “I mean, maybe she’s put on a really good show and she’s barefaced lying to me-”

“I’ll fucking say.”

“-shut it Ray, but I think she’s serious about it? I’m not joking, for the first time in my life I suddenly know what it’s like to be at the other end of my charismatic charms.”

Rayven was still chuckling, try to cover it up with his hand, but Jakdaw was too busy wriggling their eyebrows like a pair of frantic caterpillars.

“... I hate both of you, you know that?”

Still, not long after the sky became a deep indigo hue overhead and the night entered full swing did Crimson come sauntering through the bar. It was unusual to see either of Eulogy’s girls wander without him in front or by their side, but whether out of concern for their wellbeing or a lingering suspicion, nobody knew. So the rarity of her lone presence cast silence as she headed straight through the centre of the bar, making a beeline for Krowe and her friends.

As she pulled up to the table, the group looked up from the freshly made meals that had just come to their table. Krowe regretted having a huge mouthful of noodles in that moment, stomach growling too loudly for her to have taken any reasonable bites, because when Crimson looked directly to her a grimace rose to her face.

“You Krowe?”

Nodding quickly and feeling broth start to drip down her chin, Krowe ignored Rayven’s quiet facepalm as she managed to swallow down the whole tangle of food, clearing her throat a moment after. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

The grimace didn’t budge. “Mr. Eulogy’s wanting you in his place to talk rewards. Might wanna head over now… Or not, if you’re too, uh, _busy_.”

“No, no, not at- not at all,” Krowe stood up fast enough to bump the top of her thighs into the table, shaking the drinks wildly. “I’ll, uh, I’ll come right away.”

Crimson just rolled her eyes, already starting to walk away, and Krowe quickly snatched a napkin from Jakdaw’s outstretched hand, mopping at her chin before hurrying after Crimson’s retreating form.

Krowe was familiar with Eulogy’s reception area, which was where she and Crimson stepped through once on the other side of town, but when Crimson indicated she continue through to the private living quarters Krowe was thrown for just a second. It was rare that Eulogy invited people there, it being his _personal_ space after all, but Krowe just straightened up and walked on through, trying to not let anxiety show in her gait.

The projector had her attention first, the little thing lighting up the whole room by projecting onto the furthest wall, but then the heart-shaped bed on the middle of the floor had her attention next, eyes stopping to see Clover sleeping beneath velvet covers before they quickly averted. Finally, she spotted Eulogy himself, sat upon a plush red booth with a magazine in hand, idly flicking through the pages.

“I brought Krowe, Mr. Eulogy,” Crimson sang as she sauntered over to him, Krowe keeping several paces behind, and she saw his dark eyes flick up to meet hers. Without another word the magazine was closed with a slap and thrown recklessly to one side, and the man stood with a razor-sharp grin, shoving Crimson out of the way before marching over to Krowe with a shout.

“ _There’s_ one of Paradise’s best slavers!”

The slap on Krowe’s back was so solid she nearly fell over, but instead she was hauled into a hug before being pushed back to balance again, the series of motions so fast it nearly gave her whiplash. Meanwhile, Eulogy was rubbing at her upper arms, smile so big it looked like it was about to break his face. “And so walks _efficiency_ in human form into my abode! What do I owe this goddess of good fortune? I’m thinking the low price of two thousand caps, hm?”

Krowe didn’t even get to react, Eulogy already turning away to grab a duffel bag hidden by the far end of the booth, the strap staining as he lifted it. The jingle of caps was more like a grind, the weight enough to break any back, but that didn’t stop him from easily carrying it over to her anyway, muscles clear through the red of his suit.

“You and your team have made me a _very_ happy man, you know that?” The bag was dropped at Krowe’s feet, the crack against the stone floor enough to make Clover stir in the bed. “Illinois is finally where he should be - at my mercy - and it’s all thanks to you!”

Shuffling in place, Krowe tried to tamp down a growing ego, nodding humbly. “Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

Waving her thanks away, Eulogy turned to sit back on the end of the booth again, grin still unnervingly bright. “With work as goddamn good as yours, that won’t be the only opportunity you’ll be getting. If anything like this comes my way again, you and your Birdsquad will be the first to know, got it? And I’ll have you know that if you ever need my help with anything, give me a word,” He winked then, throwing an arm over the back of the booth. “You deserve it.”

Twenty minutes later, Krowe having successfully dragged the bag all the way to her home, Krowe was laid across her bed, panting and huffing but smiling with glee.

Damn, it felt _good_ to be the bad guy.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days after bringing Illinois back to Paradise the slave pens had been closed up for at least a month, overstocking leading to the pens being full to bursting, and since then another five full days of inactivity had passed. Other times Krowe would be bored to tears, or flat out frustrated at being out of a job for four whole weeks, but instead she was glad for the time off after the whole Illinois thing… and for more time to be spent with Erin, supposedly. Which was why she was stood up on one of the vacant guard posts that overlooked the wasteland all around Paradise Falls, squinting for any sign of a black-haired green-eyed trader. Admittedly it wasn’t even noon yet, sun still lazily rising and casting the world in a foggy orange glow, but she could be hopeful.

The wonky metal pillar began to shake, and Krowe glanced down to see Rayven making his way up, stopping a few rungs short of the top to glance about with a wry smile.

“Is she really gonna be worth all this effort? Haven’t seen you so eager in… a while, actually.”

Resisting the temptation to step on his face, Krowe sighed, casting a gaze around the rolling dusty grounds. “You’ll see.”

A long pause then, shouting coming from over near the slave pens as a scuffle broke out, but neither Krowe nor Rayven said anything. Just watching the sunrise, slowly but surely.

“... What if she doesn’t show?” The words came out with a series of pause between, Rayven sucking a breath through his teeth when Krowe shot him a glare. “I’m serious. Girls come and go, Krowe. Can’t trust them for shit, but you’re acting like you’ve met your _love at first sight_ or somethi-”

“It’s been a while, okay?” Krowe cut him off, grinding her teeth together. “And it’s not _love_ , dipshit. You’d know why I’m so excited once you get a glimpse of her goddamn face, trust me.” Then, dropping her voice lower, “And she _better_ show.”

Rayven gave up at that point, heading back down to ground level to wander back off into Paradise, but Krowe stayed up top for a long while yet, watching for any sign of a lumbering brahmin. Rayven was right, to his credit - it wouldn’t be any surprise if Erin had wised up and decided to stay far away, able to brag about tricking a slaver long enough to grab her ass, yet Krowe couldn’t help but feel her gut protest at the thought. Something about the glint in emerald eyes, and perfect curve of her grin… Erin hadn’t been faking her desire. It had been like a fiery beacon under that overpass, and one not easily sated unless it was with the person who’d inspired it in the first place.

Krowe really hadn’t been with anyone for a long time either. Catching a girl for the night was hard when you were busy trying to catch somebody else, and it made her itch for company.

_‘The only reason I wouldn’t show is because I’d be dead, but that won’t happen ‘cause I don't believe in gettin’ shot.’_

Tapping her foot against the metal bars that made up a mockery of a rail, Krowe grit her teeth again, impatience churning in her stomach, and she was just about to head back down and order a few drinks from Bailey to pass the time when suddenly something moved on the horizon.

Blinking, Krowe peered out, trying to make out a figure in the haze. It was hard to tell what anything was in the fog, if she were being honest, but as they got closer the recognition grew, the rounded shape of a brahmin and slim shadow of a lanky merchant were two silhouettes Krowe could recognise plastered.

Shuffling, and then dropping low, Krowe began to clamber down the ladder with increasing feverishness, nearly falling off when her grip half failed her. She forwent the final few rungs, hitting the ground with a solid thud, and she dashed past a group of slavers - who, from the sounds of disappointed groans, had been betting whether or not her mystery merchant would show. Still, she ignored them in favour of bursting out into a sprint towards the blue gates of Paradise, passing surprised faces left and right. Throwing the doors open, she continued her pace down the sloping path towards the front gate, not even pausing for breath. Krowe’s heart was thundering, lungs heaving for air, and she overtook slaver and slave alike as she made for Grouse’s station where the surly man had stopped Erin in front of his desk.

“Trader, huh? Never seen you around here bef-”

His speech was interrupted when Krowe almost leapt clear over his desk, skidding along the dirt to stop not inches from Erin’s chest. Despite the flush of red on her face, sweat dripping from her forehead and ragged breathing, she still stood tall enough that Grouse leaned back a little in surprise.

“She’s with me, actually.”

Silence descended, the noise from Paradise Falls suddenly muted to a murmur compared to the rush of blood in Krowe’s ears, but Grouse just made a gruff sigh, waving Erin towards the path Krowe had just flown down. “Alright, no need to cause a damn scene. She makes trouble though, that’s on you.”

Krowe’s grin was triumphant, but when she turned to Erin she was met with a look of awe, Erin’s eyes gleaming in the morning light. Then, after a second, she spoke with a burgeoning smile.

“... Gotta say, I’ve never had a girl run for me like _that_ before.”

The flush from exertion was quickly replaced by a huge blush, Krowe’s ears burning hot, and she just coughed, jerking her head in a twitch that could just barely pass as an indication of where to go. “Yeah, uh… we can put your brah- we can put Meatball up in our stables, if you like?”

Remembering Meatball’s name made Erin’s smile twice as bright, and she nodded, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Sounds great.”

Ignoring Grouse’s rolls of his eyes, Krowe began to lead Erin back towards Paradise proper. Erin was glancing about curiously, catching sight of a mauled body that served as a warning to rebellious slaves, but she seemed content enough to ignore it, instead stepping a little faster to catch up with Krowe as they reached halfway up the hill.

“Hey, wait a sec.”

Stopping just long enough to turn around, Krowe frowned and opened her mouth to ask why, but then Erin was suddenly kissing her, all soft and warm and tender, and she squeaked in her mouth before pressing back. It didn’t last more than two or three seconds before Erin retreated, smirk lazy, and Krowe felt her whole body warm up at the sight.

“Sorry. I was thinkin’ about kissin’ you all week and I couldn’t wait. Was that, uh, was that okay?”

Krowe blinked once, twice, and then realised Erin was waiting for an answer. “Oh! Of- yeah. No, yeah, that’s fine. I… I liked it.”

Erin’s hand twitched, and then it slipped into Krowe’s, squeezing her fingers gently. “Good. Shall we?”

 _Fuck you, Rayven_. “Absolutely.”

Krowe guided Erin up to the stables they’d built by the gate, made once more traders began to dare step within Paradise’s walls. Meatball walked in obediently like it’d been his home for years, and Krowe watched Erin gently threaten the keeper (something to do with having all his limbs horrifically broken if even a hair on Meatball’s leathery body was harmed), and then they headed on into Paradise, Krowe opening the doors wide for Erin to step through.

The first thing they both heard was a wolfwhistle, loud and clear in the air.

“God _damn_ Krowe! And here I thought she’d never show!”

“Oh shit, I owe Grey fifty caps. Fuck-”

“Not a bad catch!”

The crowd that had gathered on the other side of the door mortified Krowe, especially when she saw caps being passed back and forth, people craning their necks to try and see Erin in person, but the trader just took it in stride as she took off her cap and bowed low.

“Thank you ladies, gents, friends. Afraid I have to break the news that I do, actually, exist. You can feel for yourself if you like, but the ass and tits are off limits.”

That made the crowd laugh, another series of whistles rising high, and Krowe marched forwards to take Erin’s hand again when Rayven and Jakdaw parted the crowd, Rayven’s dark eyes already looking Erin up and down as he approached. Again the trader was totally unperturbed by the taller man, and instead another smirk rose.

“Ah! You’re the guy who was carryin’ a friend off down the river, arencha?”

Rayven halted his stride then, thick brows rising high, and then he crossed his arms over a broad chest. “That’s right. You must be Krowe’s new buddy.”

Erin’s eyebrows wriggled, biting her bottom lip. “Sure am, though I’m hopin’ it won’t just be _buddy_ by tomorrow, yeah?”

Krowe nearly choked, but instead she stepped forwards to get between the two. “ _Rayven_ , this is Erin. Erin, Rayven. He’s one of my partners.” Then, she thought about the wording a little. “One of my _teammates_.”

Erin caught her slip, winked, and then held out a hand. “Nice to meet ya. Erin Kalowski, at your service.”

Rayven, after a tense moment, took her hand for a brisk shake, and just as he let go Jakdaw appeared from behind him, looking expectantly towards Krowe for their introduction too. Rolling her eyes, Krowe held a hand out towards him. “And this is Jakdaw.”

When Jakdaw held out their notebook Erin didn’t even hesitate, reading out the words - ‘good to meet you’ - before handing it back with a smile and another handshake. “Good to meet you too! Hope we’ll be able to hang out real soon.”

Jakdaw paused, blushed, and then smiled, and Krowe watched the sight with fascination before Erin looked back to her eagerly, bouncing lightly on her heels.

“So, you gonna give me the grand tour?”

When Erin took her hand again, Krowe could feel Rayven’s stare as another red flush grew up her cheeks, but she just smiled back, squeezing her hand.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was evening by the time Krowe brought Erin to her place, kicking the jammed door open into her space. It’d been a sizeable storeroom once, but they’d had a bunch of slaves drag the debris out so Krowe could move in. She was glad for the privacy, the solid walls - it meant she wasn’t victim to everyone knowing what she was up to at night, which was something those enclosed with wooden shacks walls were.

Erin seemed to appreciate it, taking the lead as Krowe closed the door behind, looking at her desk, her cupboards and drawers, before her eyes settled on the double bed slid up against the far wall.

“Nice digs. Looks like slavin’ gets all the good perks, huh?”

“You could say that,” Krowe crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes so aching feet could breathe. She hadn’t noticed the dull pulse of pain throughout the day, too busy escorting Erin from shop to shop, but now she felt it in every step with a wince.

The mattress depressed a little more as Erin sat beside her, and heavy walking boots were kicked off to fall beside Krowe’s, socked toes wiggling as Erin stretched out long legs with a sigh. The green cap soon followed, tossed to the end of the bed before the trader leaned back on her hands, looking up to Krowe with a cheeky smile and glittering eyes, the light of the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling reflected back. “So what’s the plan for this evening? Dinner? A show?”

In response, Krowe just bit her lip, having to look away. The plan had been wait for Erin to arrive and ravish her for hours, taking out her sexual frustrations on tantalising skin, but Erin was already different to most girls Krowe invited to her abode. Normally they came around nightfall, they spent the night on the same mattress, and then they’d leave not long after with empty promises of ‘maybe again’. But Erin had come _early_ , and Krowe had shown her around, introduced her to friends and colleagues like she was more of a girlfriend than a one-night stand. Why? Did Erin really, genuinely want to spend time with her?

A bizarre thought.

“Hey. Hey, Krowe?”

A hand touched her shoulder, and Krowe glanced back to Erin who’s sat back up, smile replaced by a look of increasing concern, brows furrowed deeply. “Krowe, if you’ve changed your mind about all this, we don’t, like… we don’t have to spend the night together, y’know?”

Blinking, Krowe didn’t realise her mouth was open and words were falling out until she heard them in her own ears. “What the Hell do you mean by that?”

Leaning away a little at the curtness of her words, surprised made Erin's eyes go wide. “Nothin’! I mean like… I came here knowin’ you might’ve changed your mind, or maybe you wouldn’t even be here. If you want out, that’s fine with me. No shame in deciding otherwise.”

Frowning, Krowe’s first thought was _I’d be really pissed if someone did that to me_ , but then her next thought was that it was a surprisingly kind gesture. Maybe she could attest it being due to her line of work involving a lot of assholes, but still. She swallowed thickly, and then raised a hand to place it on Erin’s, not pushing her off but just holding it there. “But if you came here thinking that, then why’d you spend all that time with me?”

The red that ran along Erin’s cheeks was endearing, and she looked away with a bashful grin. “Uh. Maybe I’m a little ol’ fashioned but, uh, I kinda like spending time with the girls I’m planning on spending the night with, you get me? And it was cute! Watchin’ you show me off to everyone all pleased like. An’ I really dig cute girls.”

Perhaps Krowe should’ve blushed, should’ve laughed, should’ve said _something_ rather than leaning in, cupping Erin’s cheek to draw her into a kiss. It was small and soft and gentle, but when they broke away Erin was enthusiastic, returning for more with a smile.

When they broke away again, Krowe had just enough breath to ask “So how do you usually spend time with these other cute girls I’m hearing about?”

Erin’s hand found Krowe’s that was still pushed against the mattress, and she wormed her fingers beneath to tangle their fingers together. “Usually over drinks. We tend to meet in bars an’ all,” There was a wink then. “This was the first time I’ve had a house tour, but I liked it. Change of pace, yeah?”

Krowe mumbled into another kiss, relaxing her hand to better hold Erin’s, and when Erin’s other hand came up to gently push her back onto the mattress, Krowe gave way easily. If Erin wanted to take the lead for now, that was fine.

Once Krowe was laid back, Erin swung a leg over to straddle her hips, watching with growing reverence as Krowe pulled out her hair tie to let inky black hair spill out. Erin’s own was loose around her shoulders, hat hair starting to unflatten, and Krowe took the chance to run her hands through Erin’s hair, massaging the scalp beneath as Erin bowed her head.

“You never did answer my question, y’know.”

“Oh?”

“Dinner and a show, I mean. Now or later?”

Krowe didn’t need to think about it very hard. “Later. _Much_ later.”

Erin grinned, ducking low for another kiss, and Krowe gave and gave, using the time to push off Erin’s sleeveless jacket and run her hands beneath the thin white shirt, bare skin warm to the touch and luxuriously smooth. _I don’t believe in getting shot_ ran through her head again and she nearly laughed. She hadn’t realised how truthful Erin had been with her until now.

When her fingers came close to the swell of Erin’s chest, though, the trader leaned back to strip the shirt off and throw it aside, letting Krowe drink in the sight of creamy skin and toned stomach until she’d nearly forgotten what her hands were supposed to be doing. So, with a blink and a hitch of breath Krowe reached up to palm small breasts, Erin’s grin growing bright and lopsided.

“Careful with the goods, babe. You break ‘em, you buy ‘em.”

Krowe couldn’t help but giggle. “I’d _very much_ like to buy you. How much?”

Erin’s eyebrows wriggled as she came down for another kiss, whispering the words against Krowe’s eager mouth. “Bargain with me.”

When Erin’s hands began to worm their way up Krowe’s shirt too, gently pinching at a sensitive bud beneath, Krowe gasped for air and squirmed, the sound forming into a breathless laugh.

There was nothing more she’d love to do.

 

* * *

 

 

It might have been several hours later when they finally laid beside each other, hearts still thumping just a little faster than usual. All of their clothes had made a confusing pile on the floor when kicked off in the antics, but Krowe was too cosy snuggled into Erin’s arms to be worried about that yet, head tucked beneath the trader’s and legs all woven together.

It was so warm and comfortable, in fact, Krowe could just about drop off to sleep, but she had a question that needed answering, so she pulled her head away, meeting Erin’s questioning green eyes with her own.

“So?”

Erin blinked once, twice, and then frowned. “So?”

“You asked me to bargain with you. On how much I’d need to pay to own you. How much?”

The frown lifted into a pair of high arches, and then Erin sniggered, pressing her face into Krowe’s neck. “I ‘unno. You tell me, babe.”

“You’re the merchant here!” The pet name nearly made Krowe blush all over, but she managed to salvage her pride for just a few more seconds. “You’d know best!”

“I sell junk, not people. You’re the expert on that.”

She had her there. So Krowe put her chin on Erin’s head, running a hand absently through Erin’s hair.

“... I’d say… I’d say you’re pretty priceless, actually,” The admission was cheesy and Erin thought so too if the quiver of her body was any indication, but Krowe pushed on. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

There was a murmur from Erin, muffled against Krowe’s neck, but at her curious nudge Erin removed her mouth from damp skin just long enough to speak in a breathy whisper.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before either, babe,” Then, she pulled back for real to give Krowe a peck on her lips. “Can we do this again sometime? Real soon?”

Krowe found that she couldn't couldn't deny such pretty green eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This really, REALLY self-indulgent fic has been in the works for... a while, but after months of writing about these Big Gay Losers privately, I'm ready to unleash them onto the world!


End file.
